Free to Choose
by Olly-Midnight
Summary: The War has ended. Voldemort was defeated at the end of Harry's 6th year. Draco returns to Hogwarts for his 7th year as a free man. His priorities are changed but will his attitude follow? Will sharing the Head's dormitory with Hermione Granger have
1. Holed up in the Library

**Holed Up In The Library**

Draco glanced upwards. It was _her_ again. Why couldn't she just leave him be? She had to strut past him, her arms filled with books, every time he thought he had finally found a peaceful place to sit and read. Normal people weren't meant to spend weekends in the library! However, she wasn't normal was she? He, at least, wasn't driven there by the need to study but the need to escape Pansy, the insufferable leech intent on getting his attention.

There she went again, brown curls bouncing around her shoulders, cradling numerous potion books in the crook of her left arm. He would bet his new broomstick that they were the books that he needed himself. How very like her to get there first.

"Granger, would you mind leaving at least one useful potions book behind before you empty the entire library? You aren't the only one taking the class, however much that displeases you." Startled, she let the mounding pile of books in her clutches crash to the floor. No doubt she had thought that she was alone among the stacks and shelves at this late hour.

"I'll just take that thick volume on the top there". Smirking, he flicked his wand sending the large text towards his table, pulling it out of her grasp.

"That was mine, Malfoy. Hand it back."

"You really need to learn to share, Granger. Besides library books don't belong to you personally, no matter how much you borrow them. It's rather embarrassing how much time you spend in here really. No social life?" After a pause, he added "I didn't think so", smirking all the while. Hermione had flushed scarlet. "Run along now Granger. Potty will be waiting." Hermione almost ran from the room, muttering dark incoherent statements.

There was no doubt in his mind that her rambling was about him. Of course it was. He revelled in it. Since the start of term, he knew just what to say to push her. Sharing the Head's dormitory had been a set back at first but he had learnt to enjoy it by using every moment to upset her perfect little world. The Dark Lord was finished and she still acted like she was preparing for the next mission for that stupid Order. She needed to get a grip on reality. She had to stop burying her head in books and actually live a little.

Realising how hypocritical he was being at that moment, he began to angrily stuff the quills, parchment and texts that littered the wooden desk in front of him into his schoolbag. Since Pansy had become a parasite he had shunned company in favour of solitude in case his presence in public attracted her. It was easier to hide as an individual than as a group. This was how he had found himself taking cover in a dark corner of the library each evening after dinner. His grades had improved significantly; he was now tying with Granger in a few classes, he though smugly. His father would be proud when he heard that unexpected piece of news. It was about time she learned to be second best at something other than Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Reaching the doors, he decided he would return to his room, putting off a visit to the Slytherin common room for yet another night. His social standing would begin to suffer if he avoided his peers much longer but the nightmarish thought of Pansy Parkinson trying to drape her arms around him once more quickly rid him of any indecision. He smoothed his hair and set off in the direction of the Head's common room. He would choose his own wife. To hell with what the Parkinson family had been told prior to the War. He was a free man now and intended to remain so.


	2. Unknown Talent

**Unknown Talent**

The portrait guarding the Head's common room slammed shut after Draco entered. The figures in those paintings really had to learn to be less sensitive. He had only called the woman obese after all. No need to get angry over simple facts.

He dropped his schoolbag by the hearth and slumped into his favourite armchair by the fire; the green velvet one. The common room was poorly designed in Draco's opinion. Who for Merlin's sake had decided that Gryffindor Red and Slytherin Green were compatible? The room looked like it had been decorated for Christmas and it was only September!

Checking first to make sure he was alone he kicked off his shoes and removed his tie. He then replaced his shirt with a black top hung over the back of the chair. The clock in the corner of the room was just chiming ten. He wouldn't be able to sleep for another hour at least.

His eyes wandered the room. Gold and silver would have been much better choices he decided. Only he and Know-It-All Granger were allowed in this part of the castle so surely no one would object to a few personal touches. He traced the tip of his wand around the stitched seams of the chair. They shone silver in the dim candlelight.

Inspired he began to add motifs, using his wand as an artist would a paintbrush. A magnificent silver dragon, wings spread, stared back at him from the chair's back when he finally let his want drop to his side.

"I never knew you were an artist." Draco spun around, wand raised. Hermione laughed. "I never realised you were so easily alarmed either." She brushed past him as he lowered his wand, making her way towards the silver dragon. Her figures ran across its wings admiringly. "Do you think you would be able to draw a lion?"

"Why on earth would I want to draw a lion, Granger?"

"Oh just to even the room out a bit. I have a feeling that this room may become infested with silver serpents soon and it would be nice to have some more gold to give the design balance." Draco grudgingly realised then that he couldn't transform the entire room into one solid block of silver. He would need to add the gold he thought of earlier eventually. He wouldn't draw a lion though; that was Granger's suggestion. Instead he walked over to his chair's red counterpart.

"Well seeing as a dragon isn't exactly a serpent, how about a compromise, Granger?" He began tracing his wand over the fabric once again, the image of his intended design stuck in his mind's eye. "Well? What do you think?"

Hermione was speechless. "Granger, hurry up and say something or I'll go back to using silver to complete the room just to annoy you."

"It's beautiful." A majestic griffin, in full pounce, was reaching out to her from the fabric with its sharp claws. "Where did you learn to draw?"

"I taught myself, not that it's any of your business. Nothing else to do at the Manor, well there is flying is suppose." By now he had already coloured the wall by the fireplace gold and was introducing tints of green and red into the borders of his artwork. "Instead of gawping and watching me do all the work, you could help you know."

"Oh right, sorry. Um, it's just that I'm not much of an artist. I don't want to destroy what you have done already." She was still gazing on with awe as he laboured over the eyes of yet another creature.

"Fine…whatever. How about you just stick to changing the colours of the walls and leave the motifs and designs to me? You could perhaps think of some ideas for lighting?" Honestly, she didn't think she was going to get away with letting him do all the work did she? He glanced over at her. She was trailing her wand over several drawings, animating them. His large silver dragon drawn in flight over the fireplace was now feeding the flames with its breath and buffeting its wings. Reading all those books had come in use somewhere other than class after all.

"Do you think coloured fairy lights or small chains of flame would be better?"

"Flame obviously. These creatures would be insulted to think you would honour them with _fairy lights, _Granger."

"It was just a suggestion, _Malfoy_. I suppose I agree for once though. I think this is something I will never be able to outcompete you with. They are wonderful." She slowly began adding rows of red flames along one edge of the room mirrored by green on the other. Draco had never heard her concede at anything.

"I never thought I would hear the day Miss Perfect told me I had outdone her. If only I had a witness."

"So you think I'm _perfect_?" A smile crossed her face. "What happened to _Mudblood Granger_?"

Draco flushed. "No, of course not," he stuttered. "And just because I named you something before the War doesn't mean I will continue to call you it after. Situations change…people change…"

"So is it you or I who have changed then, Draco?"

"Granger, I will tell you if we ever reach first name terms. Until then you can call me _Mr Malfoy._ Do not mistake our getting along for friendship. Just because I am no longer living under my father's rein and Voldemort is defeated, it does not mean I will ever jump at the chance to befriend you, Potty or Weasel Boy."

"I think that will do for tonight," she muttered lowering her wand. The room was breathtaking. The creatures inhabiting the walls and furniture flickered in the flames and clawed at the tinted walls. "You really did a marvellous job tonight, Malfoy. I must say you surprised me."

"And there I thought I was done surprising people. I may not suddenly be of completely different character, Granger, but I _am _sorry for my past. My life and my choices were not my own so do not continue to judge me for them. I was only really born that midsummer day that Potty rid the world of the Dark Lord and imprisoned my father. I wish to start afresh… Start off free…"

Hermione opened and close her mouth several times struggling to think of what to say. She had always suspected there were hidden depths to Draco Malfoy (and he had definitely been proving that the last couple of months since Voldemort's demise) but for him to reveal it to her personally was something else. She felt as if she were eavesdropping on a private conversation or witnessing a private liaison. Draco smiled. "Goodnight Granger."


	3. It's Not a Damn Art Gallery

**It's Not a Damn Art Gallery**

Draco groaned; he hated Wednesdays. Double Potions, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies did not add up to a good day. Rolling over, he hit the cold flagstones of the floor.

"Decorating tire you out, Ferret?" He knew that voice. What was _he _doing here?

"I can sleep on the couch if I wish to, Weasley. You, however, probably can't afford a bed. I also don't remember ever inviting you into my common room so get out. Now." Ron's face reddened. He started reaching for his wand but a hand pulled it out of his grasp.

"Don't even try it, Ron. He's just baiting you. Cursing him isn't worth a week's worth of detentions."

"Getting Granger to fight your battles now? Bet you couldn't even think up a curse good enough to earn a week of detentions. No, make that a day." Expecting Ron to resort to violence of some sort, he was surprised when it was Hermione who turned on him, prodding him in the chest.

"Cut that out _right now._ I have absolutely no patience for this petty squabbling. You're a Prefect and you're Head Boy so act like it. You aren't children and the War is over! Grow up!" She was red in the face and panting slightly. Ron looked crestfallen and Draco had the appearance of being slapped. Did Granger just tell him off? _Him?_ Draco Malfoy?

Grabbing a clean shirt and the required books he stormed from the room, not forgetting to shoulder Granger roughly and give the portrait guarding the door abuse. He still hadn't donned his shirt when he was driven off course by a body running into him.

"Granger, what is your problem?"

"My problem! I wasn't the one who just stamped out of a room because they were told to stop acting immature!"

"And I wasn't the one who invited Weasley into the Common Room in the first place! Can't you meet up with your boyfriend somewhere else, Granger? Somewhere that isn't private?"

"He's not my boyfriend and the Common Room isn't just yours, it's ours!"

"Exactly! Weasley should never be in there! I don't want him seeing those drawings!" Draco blushed.

"So this is about your drawings! What's so significant about them that they have to be kept secret? You should be proud of them and be glad that someone else apart from me had the chance to see them!" Draco turned even redder. He wasn't really sure why he had been so angry that Weasley had seen his artwork. He had a nagging suspicion though that it was because he hadn't drawn those griffins for Weasley; he had drawn them for her. It's not as if she would know that he never showed anyone his work never mind carry out a request. Did he even know why he did it? Yes: because she had asked him to.

"Draco, are you even going to answer me?" Well what could he say? Sorry I acted childishly but the drawings were sort of a private gift and you paraded them for Weasley? He could never say that. A Ravenclaw 6th year passed at that moment, giggling at Draco's embarrassment and lack of clothing and Hermione's flushed appearance. Realising his state of dress and becoming flustered, she asked "Malfoy, can you please just put your shirt on?" He slowly obeyed, carefully thinking over his next words.

"It's not a damn art gallery, Granger. How would you feel if you wrote me a letter and I sent copies to the entire of Slytherin House?" He tore his gaze from the brown-haired girl in front of him, spun on his heel and strolled off in the direction of the dungeons. Hermione remained there, confused and late for class.


	4. Who Needs a Skiving Snackbox?

**Who Needs a Skiving Snackbox When You've Got Hermione Granger?**

He kept his head bowed down over the cauldron, the viscous potion bubbling purple. Just one more hour to go, he kept telling himself, just one more hour. He only had to add a few more ingredients then he could leave. If only he could make time go faster. His hands tightened their hold on the edge of the wooden desk as he heard yet another artist joke. Weasley, of course, had spent the first half of the class sniggering to anyone who would listen about Draco's artistic abilities.

"You need to be careful, Sarah. He might try and stab you with a paintbrush."

"Him? The cowardly Death Eater?"

His knuckles turned white. He couldn't stand it anymore. The cauldron in front of him clattered to the floor oozing its contents over the flagstones. He snarled as he turned to face the class.

"I am not a coward! And I'm not a Death Eater! You know of **nothing**! You sit there believing you have the right to judge me when you know nothing about me or what I've went through. You, however, what did _you_ do in the War? What did _you_ see? The most you probably had to deal with was the inconvenience of having to be indoors by 7!" His breathing was laboured, his arms shaking. He didn't even remember picking up his wand yet there it was pointing at the ignorant Ravenclaw girl three seats away. She was trembling. He glared along the rows, daring someone to contest him. Eventually, a smirking Slytherin boy rose from his seat.

"But you have the Mark, don't you? I've _seen _it! You can't lie when there's a tattoo testifying your guilt."

"It is not a tattoo, it is a brand, you fool. I might be scarred by him but I wasn't a follower! Cannot a farmer brand livestock, cage it and claim to own it? Potter has his victim scar, this is mine." In his peripheral vision, Draco could see Ron looking guilty, Hermione nervous and Harry impassive. He felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to deliver comfort through its grip.

"Lower your wand, Draco? I understand. You know I do." Relinquishing his wand to Blaise, he let himself be placed back in the chair. At least he knew someone still stood by him when the world was against him. The door slammed.

"So how are you all getting on with the assignment? Why, Mr Malfoy! Your potion is all over the dungeon! What happened?" Draco continued to stare at the far wall, his fists clenched. The last thing he wanted was an interrogation from Slughorn, from anyone for that matter. "Mr Malfoy, are you quite all right?"

Of course he wasn't alright! He knew going back to school this year was going to be difficult but he thought the fact that he was there and not in Azkaban would show his innocence. Saying that, the Prophet hadn't been kind to his family; there had been a five page slander article about his mother and him. Unfortunately, the report about his father had been accurate if lacking a few details.

"I don't think Draco is quite feeling himself today, sir. Would you mind if I took him to the hospital wing?" If he hadn't found it calming at that moment he would have snapped at her to stop calling him by his given name. Besides, when had Hermione Granger begun to care about him of all people?

"I think that wise, Miss Granger. I will request for your teachers to send a copy of today's lesson plan to your common room so neither of you shall fall behind. I'll clear up here." Hermione shuffled uneasily towards him, feeling the glares of disapproval from her classmates boring into the back of her.

Reaching for his shirt sleeve, she asked "Please Draco? Let's just go." She pulled him to his feet and steered him through the maze of desks towards the door. Draco kept his head low, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. Not for the first time he wished he had an invisibility cloak like Potter's. Outside in the corridor the atmosphere lacked the tension the classroom contained but it was just as quiet. Soon after Hermione closed the door, the class erupted into chatter, no doubt discussing the incident that just occurred.

"I'm not going to see that nurse, Granger."

"I never said I would take you there; I only asked Slughorn if I _could_. There's a difference, Malfoy. However, I do suggest we go back to our common room before those lesson plans arrive."

"Very sneaky, Granger. Sure you weren't destined for my house and not Gryffindor?" Hermione looked at him sceptically. "Hmm I suppose not - you're always brave enough to do the right thing." With that Draco pulled himself up to his full height, shoulders back, head held high and sauntered off in the direction of the common room. No one would have guessed about his sudden bout of rage only fifteen minutes before. "Well? Are you coming or not?" Hermione, in disbelief, rushed along the corridor. Draco Malfoy apparently was a lot more complicated than she had thought.


	5. Apprenticeships and Secrets

**Apprenticeships and Secrets**

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by walls of books. Her brown curls had tumbled around her face. If it weren't for the periodic swift flick of a page or the hurried scribble of a note, she could have been mistaken to be in a deep sleep. Locks of her hair swayed slightly with the rhythm of her breathing. She looked so peaceful…

"Malfoy, is there a reason why you're staring at me?" Well maybe not so peaceful now. "And before you ask how I know, I haven't heard you turn a page in over ten minutes." Her hazel eyes were locked on him. What should he say? He couldn't very well pretend to be studying now seeing as was facing the opposite direction from his books.

"I've just been waiting for you to hurry up and take a break is all. The silence felt too good to be broken. You, however, ruined that, Granger. Besides, I'm lost with all this muggle nonsense. I can't believe the Ministry made it a compulsory course."

"It's not that difficult and I'm glad the Ministry made it so. Perhaps it will help resolve the divide between purebloods and muggleborns."

"I can't see that happening for a long time yet, Granger - and before you start ranting about how things should have changed now- people are just too set in their ways. The old families will resent conceding their class system; it kept them wealthy."

"So how wealthy did being stuck up make you, Malfoy?" Her shoulders were straightening, preparing for an argument.

"I'm very wealthy actually but it never came from being _stuck up_ as you put it so eloquently. Our family makes its money from our vineyards. We also have many large properties we rent out across Europe. Unfortunately, that will be my future. I have no choice in the matter; I am the only heir and so when I finish school my mother will relinquish control of the family business to me. Otherwise, the Ministry will claim it and sell it off piece by piece. I cannot allow that." That shut her up didn't it? Or maybe not…

"But you're only 17! How can you be expected to run a business as vast as that? I thought it surprising that the Ministry would offer me a mere apprenticeship at 17! I suppose that's not going to happen now anyway…" Disappointment showed clearly upon her face.

"And why do you say that then, Granger? You have top grades and it's not as if you're moving to Australia." Her face paled and she shuffled uncomfortably. "Ha! That's it isn't it? Have you told Potty and Weasel that the master planner of the trio is immigrating to the southern hemisphere yet?"

"Oh Malfoy, _please, please_, don't tell them! I don't want to worry them when it's not even final yet. I'm trying to find my own place so I can keep my apprenticeship."

"Very well, Granger, but I might have to be persuaded. So for now I'll keep your secret but you owe me. I'm sure something will crop up that I will need your help with…" Hermione was horror struck. Draco winked at her. "Don't look so worried, Granger."

With that, Draco sprung up from his seat and strolled to the stairs leading to his room. _Hermione Granger owed him._ There was something very empowering about that statement. Draco liked it.


	6. Jumping Through Hoops

**Jumping Through Hoops**

The next couple of days were abuzz with students retelling the story of how the famous Hermione Granger of the Golden Trio had stood up for the infamous so-called ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. He was going to hex the next person who asked him for his firsthand account.

However, it did seem that his short outburst had regained him some of the respect that he had lost from his fellow students. That much he was grateful for. That morning as he had entered the Hall every head had spun towards him, eyes following him to his seat. What did they expect? For him to turn green or to start smashing up the tables?

Sighing, he picked up the newspaper in front of him. As usual, it was filled with pictures of missing friends and relatives. His stomach sank; he couldn't help but wonder if his father had been responsible for any of the disappearances. His Aunt Bellatrix most definitely was.

"You alright, Draco?" asked Blaise grabbing the newspaper. "You need to stop feeling guilty, mate. You aren't to blame for what your family did and being under the imperious curse doesn't count y'know. Come on, how about we grab our brooms and have a fly about the lake? I still can't believe they cancelled Quidditch. 'It's an obstruction to House unity'…as if." Draco couldn't help but cheer up at the thought of flying. Grabbing a few extra pieces of toast, he left for the common room.

After collecting his broomstick he trailed back down the spiral staircase and was about to leave when he noticed a letter on the table addressed to him. He roughly stuffed it into his cloak pocket before running out to meet Blaise. He would read it later.

"What took you so long? Get ambushed by Myrtle?"

"Don't even joke about that, Blaise," stated Draco as he paced towards the lake's edge, broom over shoulder. "You know what she's like – any excuse to make me late for class. I practically run past that part of the school." Blaise sniggered. "Oh, shut up. You would too. Now are we flying today or not?"

Draco pushed off from the ground pulling back into a steep incline. Soon he was high above the school grounds, his cloak billowing out behind him. Thoughts of his troubles faded from his mind as he looped, rolled and spun, competing with Blaise to see who had the better skill. By the time they came to a rest they had gathered quite an audience; at least a third of the school were strewn across the grass waiting for the next demonstration. Draco blushed.

"Well look at that!" Blaise chortled. "We've even got Granger watching!"It took some time before he spotted the lone figure surrounded by books beside the old tree but he was astonished all the same to see her distracted from her reading. Draco urged his broom forwards; he had the sudden desire to flaunt his aptitude.

Blaise could only watch as Draco pulled out of the dive centimetres above the silver lake's rippling surface. The boy was mad, he just had to be: he was currently balancing on the broom as if it were a tightrope and he an acrobat doing handstands and back flips along it. Blaise never even knew he could complete such feats.

Doing yet another loop, Draco was worried to see smoke trailing from his broom. Relief only set in when he realised it was coloured; it was a spell. When he came to rest, hovering a few feet from shore, a giant Slytherin snake looked down at the crowd. The green smoke was already beginning to disappear in the breeze.

"You could have been a little more imaginative." Hermione stood at the edge of the water, gazing at the sky above her. "I must say I'm a little disappointed."

"_Disappointed! _I just _back-flipped along a broom_ and that's all you can say?" Hermione smirked. The girl was infuriating. The fact that he had failed to impress her he felt took away his triumph at mastering those acts. Gazing across the lawn he saw an elated crowd making their way towards them. Why couldn't she be as thrilled as they were?

"I was just hoping to maybe see another one of your magnificent dragons is all. There's no need to look so let down." He looked at her. She had a knowing smile on her face; it was as if she knew he had only put the show on for her. He hadn't, had he? Oh, of course he had. He hadn't even thought of the others watching. He hated that knowing smile.

"I do _not_ look or feel let down, Granger. That suggests I did all of that for your benefit and it certainly was not. Do not flatter yourself. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to speak with people who actually appreciate my skills." He dismounted at the pebbled shore, the water splashing at his heels before storming off towards the waiting students. The green serpent stared down mockingly at him. _Why did Granger bother him so much?_ Blaise, still perched high above the lake, couldn't help but laugh, the knowing smile that Draco hated so much spread across his face.


	7. Hopeful Words and Jealous Eyes

**Hopeful Words and Jealous Eyes**

_My dearest Draco,_

_I understand your fears concerning the arrangement for I too share them. However, I cannot intervene: this is a contract between your father and the Parkinson family. As my name is nowhere mentioned, as much as I sorely wish to, I cannot meddle. I wish for your happiness and so I give you hope: no magic can break that of marriage. So go find love, Draco. You cannot marry if you are already so. You have until Christmas._

_You loving and remorseful mother,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

So that was her advice? To marry before he was forced to? Okay, well maybe not forced. He had agreed to it after all. He could not shift the blame for this ludicrous contract to his mother when it was he himself who had went along with it. He had been young and thought he wouldn't have to go through with it for many years to come. It wasn't until he realised that Pansy had no intention of letting him live alone in some far away country to run his business in peace that he rebelled. By then of course it was too late. She couldn't wait to be Mrs Malfoy so she could bleed him dry of all assets and strut around calling herself 'Lady of the Manor'. Pansy was no Lady and he had no intention of providing the Manor.

Draco tossed the letter into the glowing fireplace where it was soon consumed by the flames. As he sat with his head in his hands he heard the portrait bang open. He could hear Granger talking to someone in the corridor. He could hear her giggling. Wait, _giggling? Granger? _

"I'll speak to you later okay?" The door closed to. She was startled to see Draco staring at her as she dropped into the armchair opposite.

"Oh, sorry, did I startle you? Or are you embarrassed that I just heard you giggle like a first year?"

"I did no such thing! Besides I wasn't expecting to see you for another couple of hours; Pansy seemed very eager to see you after your little performance this morning."

"Don't even say her name to me. She's an uncivilised dim-witted girl who thinks she can sponge off me for the rest of her life. She is sorely mistaken and I will enjoy telling her so."

"Ah, so no romantic intentions at all then?"

"Of course not, Granger! Just drop it. I am, however, curious to know who that was at the door just now." Her smile faltered.

"Oh it was nobody - just another student." Mr Nobody eh? How hard could it be to figure it out? Well he hadn't seen her conversing with anyone new lately…

"Wait a second, that wasn't Weasel was it?" Her silence told all. "_I do aerobatics and you don't even bat an eyelid yet he walks you to a door and you giggle like __**that**__?_ _Why_ did I even bother?"

"Why do you even care, Malfoy? I didn't ask you to show off in front of the entire school! And for the _last time_ I _didn't_ **giggle**!" They were both standing now, breathing hard, only a foot or so apart. She was attractive when she was angry… Wait, _Granger, attractive? _Something had to be wrong with him.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" He realised she had sat back down. How much time had passed? Seconds? _Minutes?_ She certainly didn't look angry anymore. Her hazel eyes were searching his face anxiously.

"Oh…um…yeah, I'm fine. I just have to go…um…see Madam Pomfrey!" He hastily picked up in his wand from the table prior to running from the room, leaving a sceptical Hermione to sit mystified by the hearth.


	8. Revelations and Expectations

**Revelations and Expectations**

"Mr Malfoy, like I said 15 minutes ago, there is nothing wrong with you."

"No fever, dehydration, swollen glands, irregular accumulation of magic?"

"No Mr Malfoy. Like I said, you are completely fine if not a little dramatic." Her stern gaze stopped him from enquiring any further about hidden illnesses. "I suggest you leave before you actually do catch something; the boy in the bed over there has a confirmed case of dragon-pox. It's highly contagious." Draco glanced at the boy suspiciously before reluctantly departing.

He shuffled along the corridor, his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, his head full of thoughts. Just because the old bat hadn't found something didn't mean that there wasn't anything wrong with him. There was no other explanation. He couldn't be absolutely fine if he thought Granger attractive, surely? Madam Pomfrey's extensive mental health tests, however, had shown otherwise. He'd made her use every spell twice just to make sure.

He was still lost in thought when he collided with someone. "Draco, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you everywhere! Granger said you told her you were going to hospital wing but she didn't seem convinced. You don't have dragon-pox do you? "

"Of course I don't have dragon-pox. I just thought I should get a check up is all. Felt a bit funny after flying this morning. I wouldn't believe a thing Granger says. She's so damn frustrating. Anyway, when are you going to get a haircut?" Blaise ran his hands through his dark hair.

"I'm going for a roguish kind of look but stop changing the subject. You were definitely acting funny this morning never mind feeling it and you only find her frustrating because she didn't swoon at your idiotic stunts. Just face it – you like her."

"I do **not **like her. What's to like anyway? She's an outspoken know-it-all who can't let things be." Not to forget clever, witty, brave, funny, beautiful…

"See you know that's not true – you're blushing like I just caught you looking through my mother's underwear drawer. Aw shht, it's just an expression. You're just confused because you never really looked at her before and now you have you like what you see but don't feel like it's allowed. The War is over Draco – this is your choice now. Just don't screw it up."

Draco watched Blaise stalk off towards the dungeons. Was his best friend right? Was he just scared to confront his feelings? As he thought it he knew it was true. But he wasn't just scared - he was terrified: he, Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, liked Hermione Granger of the Golden Trio. Did things like this always sneak up on you? It was better than foreseeing it he supposed.

He couldn't help wonder what she thought of him. He could use legilmency but shied away from that idea; he couldn't bare it if she didn't feel the same. There was always the risk of learning things you never wished to know. And what if –

"Mr Malfoy, will you _please_ just _go away_! If you pace past this door one more time I will deduct points! Yes, from the Head Boy! Now away with you! My patients require peace and quiet. " As he headed for the stairs he deliberately stamped his feet with every step.

When the steps stairs evened out underneath his feet he couldn't decide where to go. Should he go back to the common room? No; he needed to get his thoughts in order first. The library it was then. There he would have silence to think, to form a plan. What was her favourite colour anyway?


	9. Stars, Stallions and Breakfast in Bed

**Stars and Stallions and Breakfast in Bed**

She had liked his artwork hadn't she? What should he draw for her? He pondered this as he stood in the centre of her room. It was the same size as his but more welcoming and in warmer colours. The walls were currently a pale red and the ceiling gold. Framed photographs of her and her family cluttered the desk along with many birthday cards. In one of the photos she was riding a pale grey horse… Well that was achievable.

Going to the far wall, he held an image of a meadow clear in his mind. Very quickly it formed before him complete with a midnight sky and a rearing horse, its mane and tail caught by the wind. It was pale grey just like in her photo.

He continued to illustrate the meadow scene on the other three walls each with a different feature before transforming the carpet to the appearance and texture of grass. One wall depicted a hawk hovering, the second a small river winding its way towards a waterfall and the third an orchard displaying its red and green apples.

Lying back in the newly formed grass he commenced work on the ceiling. A midnight sky soon appeared complete with charmed constellations twinkling into oblivion. He further charmed the ceiling and his artwork so that it would change with the motions of the heavens. Never again would she miss a sunrise or sunset.

He added the final touches to the room, which included transforming her bed's drapes to a dark blue sparkled with sequins and fairy lights, before departing. By the window he left a note with just two words: _Thank you. _Downstairs he collapsed onto the couch exhausted. He thought he heard the portrait open just as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

It was morning when he rose. At first he believed himself in bed but the ceiling was too high, the bed too small and what sounded like the clink of cutlery. As he sat up a scarlet blanket fell away from his body. He was sure he didn't own such an item.

"I thought you might get cold sleeping there," a melodious voice stated. "I hope you don't' mind. Would you like some breakfast? I brought up enough for two." Glancing around, he found the owner of the voice positioned by the colossal arched window. Sunlight was streaming in through the glass dancing over her brown curls.

"You brought me breakfast in bed, Granger?" he asked, a smirk spreading over his face. He could learn to like Sundays.

"Well that isn't a bed but I did bring you breakfast. Call it a thank you for the gift." She placed several pieces of toast on a plate which she then handed to him. After a few seconds pondering what she meant he remembered the redecoration of her room.

"I'm glad you like it but there was no need for you to do this. It was for braving the anger of our potions class the other day. I never did say thank you for that. If it weren't for your influence I would probably be expelled by now. You calmed me. I never thought that possible. You may also call it a belated birthday present. He glanced at her and was surprised to see her smiling. It was enchanting.

"In that case you are very welcome, Malfoy."

"You can call me Draco," he said self-consciously.

"Hermione," she replied. Reaching for her outstretched hand he bowed before pressing it to his lips.

"Charmed." Releasing her hand from his he was pleased to see her cheeks had turned crimson. "You wouldn't think it awfully bold of me, Miss, if I enquired to whether we may share a table this fine morning? For we are just new acquaintances and I would not wish to intrude."

"But Sir, we have met on many occasions, or have you forgotten? I suppose we are not who we were once then but let us share a table and I can remind thee." She began to laugh.

"Why Lady, you have a fair tongue but your laughter is fairer yet. Even that though cannot rival your eyes." He bowed once again, winking, before he slouched into the opposite chair.

"Well that just ruined it, didn't it, Draco. There you were portraying a perfect gentleman just to ruin it with bad posture. And to think - I thought you were being positively charming!" Her eyes were creased with laughter.

"I'll have you know I have perfect posture – just not at 9 in the morning. And why do you sound shocked to say I was charismatic? Pass the butter would you?"

"I was just shocked to hear you try to allure _me_ is all. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence is it?"

"Would you like it to be?"


	10. Learning to Live a Little

"_I was just shocked to hear you try to allure me is all. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence is it?"_

"_Would you like it to be?"_

**Learning to Live a Little**

She continued to start at him. She appeared to be having a battle of sorts with herself. Several long seconds had passed without her making a single movement or sound apart from the blinking of her long dark eyelashes and the gentle whisper of her breathing. It felt like a lifetime before she eventually spoke.

"Draco, you shouldn't joke like this."

"Who said I was joking? Please don't try to make me out to be some sort of performing clown playing tricks. I want an answer." She hung her head and was currently attempting to hide behind the curtain of curls which had fallen in front of face. Reaching over the table, he tilted her chin upwards forcing her to face him. "Please? Will you not even look at me? "

She slowly looked up into the pleading depths of his silver eyes. "Draco, please don't do this. I can't…I just can't." It was the most pitiful answer he had ever heard come from her lips.

"When are you going to learn to live a little, Hermione? You need to go find your own happiness and stop trying to appease Weasley." He couldn't believe the girl. Was she really going to sacrifice her own happiness every time a man showed interest just so Weasley wouldn't be upset? She was loyal but extremely stupid. He got up to leave but a hand grabbed his wrist. Its owner was struggling to hold eye contact.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me today?"

"Do I have the pleasure of calling it a date? Or is this strictly professional?"

"Well…yes," she blushed, "but can we maybe just refer to it as professional if anyone enquires?" He couldn't help but laugh. You have to walk before you can run he supposed.

"Very well then. I'll meet you back here in half an hour." He strode off to his room not quite managing to keep a smile from his face. He turned at his door in time to see the tail ends of her cloak swish up the spiral staircase.

Inside, he gazed at his appearance in the ancient mirror on the wall. His blonde hair was sticking up at angles and his clothes were crushed and creased from sleeping in them. His tie was still hung loosely around his neck. A good shower was what he needed and he definitely needed a change of clothes.

When he later emerged into the common room he was wearing black jeans, converse and a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled to sit above his elbows. His hair he had let be; it was now tousled instead of its usual slick guise. He was still fastening the final buttons when he heard her approach him.

"I never knew you could dress casually," she whispered in his ear. He could feel her breath on his neck. It was making his pulse quicken. "And you're in muggle clothing too! Where is my camera?" She giggled and stepped away.

"It may be muggle clothing but it was still bought from a wizard retailer. Somehow, I thought you wouldn't feel comfortable if I were wearing a fully black suit and cloak." A crooked smile materialised on her face.

"You thought correctly. You know, I don't think I've ever seen you wearing any colour apart from green. Do you fear colour?"

"Of course I don't fear colour - I've just never been used to it. Colour isn't exactly prominent in my life. Green is the only real colour in the Manor and if you attempt to wear anything other than dark colours you tend to be rather conspicuous. I always found it rather beneficial to blend in with the surroundings when I stayed there. It was easier to stay out of 'trouble' shall we say."

"I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to make things awkward."

"Oh, don't worry, you didn't. However, if you wish, I can charm my shirt to canary yellow. Would that please you? Or am I allowed to remain fashionable and refined?" His lips turned up at their corners. "Now may you tell me why you are dressed up as if for a blizzard? The dress is stylish and of a desirable colour but I think you can lose the jacket, gloves, scarf and hat." Hermione stared at him sceptically.

"Draco, you do realise that it's the beginning of October and that we are currently in an area of the country infamous for being cold and windy?"

"Really, Hermione, are you a witch or not?" At her mutterings of yes and looks of confusion he continued; "Ah I see I have the opportunity of teaching you some new charms then. There's a first. Now after you, Miss Granger." Hermione reluctantly removed her extra garments before brushing past him through the door. A doubtful expression was clear upon her face. Honestly, did she have no faith in him at all? Well, probably not.


	11. What Do Dragons Hoard?

**What Do Dragons Hoard?**

Draco walked smugly along the high street of Hogsmeade, Hermione trailing at his side. She was still in obvious disbelief. They were currently strolling past shop windows garbed in no more than one layer of clothing. People wrapped in scarves and jackets stopped to stare at their passing.

She shuffled closer, trying to take better advantage of the invisible sphere of heat surrounding him. He had shown her the spell but so far she had failed to hold it for longer than five minutes (much to her annoyance and dismay). Draco, however, found it highly amusing that he had mastered a spell she had not.

"Please try not to look so full of yourself, Draco. It's most unbecoming and certainly not gentlemen-like." Her eyes were stern.

"Oh now, now, let's not get disheartened. After all, I only finally managed it after my father locked me out in the snow overnight with nothing more than the clothes I was wearing and my wand. I was eleven I think. Oh don't look so surprised; you know of far worse things my father is capable of. I believe you are just analysing it too much. It's similar to a patronus; you need to feel it."

Hermione stepped into the shelter of a deserted doorway, Draco quickly following suit. Placing her wand between her palms she concentrated hard on trying to push the warm, elated energy from her most joyful memories into her wand as he had instructed. Her focus wavered as Draco reached around her adding his hands to her own.

"Close your eyes." His voice was little more than a whisper. "Trust me." Pulling her close he forced some of his own energy into her hands. "Feel that warmth? Now imagine it as a small sphere. As I add more energy I want you to make the sphere larger. I want you to continue to do so until it completely surrounds us. Think you can do that?" The brief nodding motion against the side of his head told him she understood. Draco's mind was full of thoughts of his first broom; the day he was given his own annex of the house; his 16th birthday when his father told him he was proud of him…

"And you've just successfully managed to complete the spell." His lips brushed her ear as he spoke and suddenly the heat from her hands was burning hot forcing him to flinch away.

"Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry! I didn't burn you did I? I didn't mean to lose focus like that."

"I'm perfectly fine. It appears I was being more of a distraction than a help," he said smirking all the while. Her cheeks became tinted pink. The feeling of her in his arms and the scent of strawberries lingered in his mind as he reluctantly increased the distance between them before slowly moving back out onto the main path. "Now where do you wish to visit?"

"Well I wouldn't normally go there, seeing as Ron and Harry don't exactly enjoy reading as much as I do, but would you mind if we visited the bookshop at the end of the high street? I've been dying to go there since first year but Zonkos always seemed to prevail with the other two."

"I don't mind at all. I can go check up on the place."

"Check up?" she asked perplexed.

"I own it," he answered smiling. "Come on, you can tell me what books you would like to see grace the shelves." Taking her hand, much to his own astonishment as hers, he guided her through several shortcuts until they were standing outside the entrance to a dark walled bookstore with brightly coloured tomes lining the windows. Large gold letters above the doorway read 'The Dragon's Hoard'. Eagerness to enter was clear on her face.

"Come on, let's go in." He pulled her forwards towards the glass panelled door. Since when had holding her hand seemed so normal? A couple of years ago he would have pretended that even the thought of doing so sickened him. Things had changed. He let the smooth skin of her hands slide from his grip as he pushed the door ajar and ushered her inside.


	12. Books and Butterbeer

**Books and Butterbeer**

Making their way to along the main street, Draco could hardly believe his day so far; had he really just spent the entire morning with Hermione Granger? Was he really intending on continuing to do so? He immediately dismissed thoughts once again of visiting Madam Pomfrey. This was a good thing. It had to be. She was just so different from the people he was used to is all. She was happy… Another quick glance at her smiling face told him so.

What made her smile like that? It couldn't be him. Maybe it was the stack of books he had graced her arms with? He was carrying them now of course. He could never have let her try to bear them herself. They had spent hours among the shelves of the premises where she would run from aisle to aisle searching the bound covers for names or prising tomes from the shelves before clutching them to her chest.

On more than one occasion Draco had to call on the small man charged of running the store at which he would come running with many a wheezing breath, an "Of course I can acquire that, Mister Malfoy" and a short bow showing his balding head before he dashed off again out of sight. His name was Angelo. Draco had hired him when the shop had first opened; besides Angelo's good natured and trustworthy personality, Draco had enjoyed the opportunity to converse in Italian. He would often visit the business to do so in the summer of his early Hogwart years and the Hogsmeade visits of his senior years. He had neglected the business somewhat during the war, however, and was glad to see it had survived without as much as a blemish to the paintwork.

A smile crossed his face as he thought of Hermione's shock when she had found an entire section dedicated to Shakespeare in one of the back rooms. He had always loved his works, even if he was a muggle. He had added the elegant script of Romeo and Juliet along with the hectic Midsummer Night's Dream to the counter. She had refused at first saying she could not afford such expensive books, not even for study. He had laughed as he had explained that they were gifts and if she did not accept he would simply deliver them to her room for her.

As they rounded the next corner he realised she was still stuttering her thanks, her eye filled with worry. "Granger, for the last time, stop thanking me. You like all of the books do you not?"

"Oh yes but-"

"Well they are going to a better home then. For I know you will read them cover to cover instead of letting them gather dust on a shelf. Besides, it was worth it just to see you so elated about something other than Transfiguration." She laughed.

"Okay but the drinks are on me. My conscience can't take you buying me anything more." Smiling, she pulled open the door to The Three Broomsticks. People hastily moved aside to escape the cold draught which followed them through the door. The bar was extremely busy yet they managed to shuffle and squeeze their way over to a corner table. Hermione blushed as Draco pulled out her chair for her after placing all her bags either on the table or at her feet.

"You don't have to do all of this stuff, you know. All of these little gestures are beginning to make me nervous - no one has ever pulled out a chair for me before. I definitely never expected you of all people to do it."

"I don't always do them intentionally: it is habit just like your apologising or the way you put Potter and Weasley before yourself. If you begin to expect more of people you may find they rise to the occasion. For example, have you ever before given me the opportunity to be a gentleman? Definitely not. So why do you assume that I would not be?" Hermione looked at him uncertainly before muttering a further apology and taking a sip of her drink. He waited until her eyes met his again before speaking. "Granger, what did I tell you about apologising?" A smile once again graced her features.

"So…um…what other things are you interested in other than painting and reading?"

"Various pursuits from sword fighting to playing piano entertain me through the summer. You name it and I'll have tried it."

"You play the piano? Really? That's impressive - I suppose anything you say shouldn't surprise me by now though. My only pastime is dance. Oh and reading, of course," she gestured at the many volumes surrounding her. "Did I say thanks for all of this?" She laughed as he sighed in exasperation.

"Come on, Granger. Let's get back to the school. I don't think I can take hearing you say that one more time."

As they left for the door they failed to see a red-haired girl sitting in the opposite corner, a confused expression on her freckled face and her companions completely forgotten.


	13. Mind Reading and Forgotten Plans

**Mind Reading and Forgotten Plans**

Draco shovelled more potatoes onto his plate as he hummed to himself. Wait…hummed? Draco never hummed. What was wrong with him? His gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table. She was sitting in between the Weasley girl (Ginny was it?) and Potter. Hermione seemed to be stabbing at her food with her knife whilst Ginny whispered animatedly. Whatever they were discussing was obviously making Hermione uncomfortable. If only he could make eye contact with her…he only needed a second. He got his chance when both girls suddenly looked over at him. _Legilimens._

_**Why couldn't Ginny just let it drop? What was wrong with them trying to develop a friendship? Imagine what she would say if she knew it had been a date! She'd probably go mental. Actually, no she wouldn't – Ron would. Harry just wouldn't understand and Ginny would be concerned. **_

_**What was I thinking though? Sure he's changed and I know he never took part in the War, not really anyway, but didn't he always make life difficult? Or did he just do all of that for appearance's sake? Guh…I don't know what to think. I wish she would just stop her insistent nattering though. It was just a drink in the pub…and a shopping trip where he bought me about twenty books - but she doesn't need to know about that. She didn't need to know about Australia yet either. **_

_**But to think he loved to read…and was musical and athletic…not to forget charming at times…I wonder if-**_

"Draco, what are you looking at? And why are you smiling? I could swear you were humming earlier." Just great…

"It's none of your business, Parkinson. Besides, what's wrong with some humming? Concerned I might actually be happy? "

"There's no reason to be so snippy, Draco. I know you're not a morning person but it's almost the end of lunch. Even you aren't that bad."

"Maybe I'm annoyed because you've interrupted my thoughts and can't leave me in peace to think!" He wished he could have known the end of Granger's sentence. It had been quite enthralling up until the point Pansy had distracted him with her wailing voice and now Granger's eyes were elsewhere, scouring the table for desert. Damn. Stupid Pansy…

Having finished his meal, Draco strode out of the hall brushing down his robes as he went. Knowing that Granger did indeed like him was an advantage but did he really have to resort to mind reading? He normally only used it as last option as it reminded him too much of his father's and Voldemort's tactics for him to feel comfortable. Reminding himself that Dumbledore often used it too helped to soothe his anxieties but surely prying into to someone's private thoughts and memories was wrong under any circumstance? Maybe, but it had kept him alive during the War. It had almost become second nature.

Lines of worry creased his forehead as he reached the far end of the entrance hall. A silver notice pinned to the stairwell caught his notice. It appeared to be advertising a Halloween Masquerade Ball, _"Costume and mask required"._ Weren't social events the responsibility of the Head Boy and Girl to organise? A faint memory of Hermione approaching him weeks earlier came to mind then; she had asked him to sign some form or other for a formal event she had planned. He had barely even listened and had signed without reading. He now remembered seeing the date _31__st__ October_ scrawled elegantly in large letters along the bottom of the parchment. Why did he never pay attention?

Reading further on, he recognised that this was an opportunity he couldn't miss. He just needed to persuade Granger to go with him, although it shouldn't take too much convincing considering her recent thoughts. If he managed it, they could spend the entire night together and no one would know – nowhere on the notice did it mention an unmasking. Hermione was even more likely to say yes because of that. This called for another Hogsmeade trip – or maybe a trip further afield. Yes, maybe Italy. He had yet to see a girl refuse a beautiful dress- especially when it was him offering it.


End file.
